Kissing in the Rain & Duel Monsters: Lady's Man
by wordsmithie
Summary: Seto is expecting a visit from Ishizu Ishtar, and for some reason, he is far more agitated about it than he would like to admit. The visit, however, ends on a far brighter note than he could have expected. Valentine's Day oneshot.


**Hi guys, this is the fourth one in my Valentine's Day drabbles, featuring Seto and Ishizu. This one would have needed a lot more exposition at the start, to establish that pull and attraction between the two – a lot more exposition than there was space and time for in this drabble, so let's just all pretend it's already there, shall we? Let's. **

**Enjoy :)**

**Word count: 2,545**

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**\- Kissing in the Rain &amp; Duel Monsters –**

**\- Lady's Man -**

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Her appointment was penned into his planner for eleven, and the clock told him – had told him so the last ten times he'd looked at it – that there were still twelve minutes to go before those doors opened.

But his eyes seemed to have a hard time dealing with that fact – they kept straying to the spot above the door, and on his wrist, before straying back to his desk.

He scribbled some notes onto the report, read it, and then crossed out what he'd scribbled. The pen tapped against his folder, its tut-tut-tutting making his agitation mockingly obvious. He dropped the pen and stood up.

No, it wasn't agitation. It was annoyance.

What did she want this time? Hadn't he already put up with enough? He turned to scowl at the city that was visible through his windows. Last time he'd lost a powerful god card. What would it be this time?

He glared at the grey clouds that hovered tentatively on the horizon. If she had the audacity to make another request that would cost him thousands upon thousands of dollars – well, the least he'd do would be to laugh it off as a bad joke. He strongly doubted, though, that she had another god card hidden under her sleeve. His reflection sneered, almost defying him to resist the imaginary temptation.

There was a knock, and he swivelled, attributing the unease in gut to the sudden interruption.

"Your eleven o'clock is here, Mr. Kaiba. A Miss Ishtar."

The sound of her name alone made his hackles rise, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling.

He cleared his throat, tugged at his jacket. "Send her in."

The secretary's nodding head disappeared, and he had only a second to adjust his papers before the doors opened and she walked in.

He'd forgotten how startling it could be to look at her. The term "striking" had never been more apt. She appeared like a blow to his gut.

Her dark eyes were clear and steady under those strong brows, that strength echoing in her comportment – in the proud line of her shoulders, the commanding, but graceful swing of her limbs.

"I know I'm not your favourite person, Mr. Kaiba, but there's really no need for you to scowl like that."

Which only made him scowl more, of course, because he hadn't meant to stare like a mindless buffoon.

"Please," he barked. "Sit." And he scowled at the chair positioned across the desk from his.

It didn't help that he spied a smile, however small and however brief, flash across her face, and vanish behind the heavy curtain of hair as she lowered herself onto the seat.

He plopped himself down, noticing how the deep green dress she wore only sat even more in stunning contrast to her dark skin now that she was closer to the window. The necklace – _that_ necklace which had cost him so much money and time – rested smugly between her collarbones, catching a bit of sun and throwing it sharply into his eyes.

"Don't tell me. You've seen something else in the future that you need my money for?" He'd thought that would cut, but Ishizu only let out a breath of laughter.

"No, today isn't about that. Today, it's simply an accessory," she said, her fingers rising to touch the necklace, a careless movement that pulled his eyes to the twin curves of the jewellery and the neckline of her dress, and though they were only a few inches apart, he had to look away and swallow.

He heard soft laughter.

"I see that you're not to be placated."

The laugh made him feel as if he'd lost a footing even while it kindled sensations in his gut that weren't altogether unpleasant.

"Look, Miss Ishtar," he bit out, "that little stunt you pulled –" and he let out a breathy, bitter laugh at "little" because it had been anything but – "cost me a lot of time and money. Not to mention it lost me my most powerful card."

His words which had sounded perfectly reasonable – had _been_ perfectly reasonable - seemed to acquire an underlying air of infantile whining under her gaze. He leaned back in his chair and tried to sit straighter.

"I do apologize for any inconvenience, Mr. Kaiba," she said, not looking in the least apologetic, "but that card was never yours. It was simply a loan. I believe I said as much."

Seto felt his neck flush. Yes, that had been evident, more so in hindsight. It was not a part of his life he liked to revisit often, but it was inevitable with her sitting there. With her there, he was only reminded of how much he'd been a pawn, the very opposite of his favourite position.

"I told you that that's how it would be," she said, softly. The necklace winked.

"Yes, well, your _predictions_ weren't exactly water-tight, were they?" he retorted. And that was a small comfort, a satisfaction that he'd won a battle even if he'd lost the war.

"No," she acquiesced, so easily and gracefully, and as with everything, that quiet dignity underlying it that made him feel slightly less somehow. "You were right. You took charge of your own destiny that night."

He blinked. There was a quiet calm suffusing his body, and he allowed her to hold his gaze, to keep him there for a few still seconds when his mind seemed blissfully clear.

He watched as a small smile appeared on her face. "But, you know, sometimes destiny can take charge, too," she pointed out.

His lips wanted to smile in return, wanted to trigger a larger smile from her, and he rolled his eyes to tamp it down. A prickle of annoyance seeped into her gaze, and he couldn't deny the satisfaction he felt at the sight. It was time he got under her skin for a change.

"You're very forthcoming with your complaints about the Battle City Tournament, but you can't deny that it had its benefits."

He could only raise an eyebrow, slightly taken aback at the sudden surge he felt at seeing her eyes challenge him.

She leaned forward, and the blood pumping through his veins rallied him to do the same, but he forced himself to be stone.

"It garnered a lot of attention and publicity. If I remember correctly all the businessmen in Domino were falling over themselves to work with you."

The fire of her, however tempered she tried to make it seem, was invigorating and he was more than happy to bask in it.

She blinked, looked bewildered, and then leaned back in her chair, clearing her throat. The sound jolted him, his lips falling slack, and it was then that he realized with a quiet, creeping horror that he had been smiling.

"Well," he said, clearing his own throat, desperately trying for some normalcy, "if I ever want to replace my publicist, I'll know where to go." But his words didn't have the bite he'd intended, came out sounding faint and puzzled to his ears.

Ishizu watched him, still with that odd look on her face. "Anyway," she said, glancing away, "I didn't come here to fight with you."

"What did you come here for?" The words were out too quickly, trying to make up for the force the previous ones had lacked, and he tried to look like he didn't regret them.

"To thank you," Ishizu snapped, her eyes sparking, and he decided that he didn't regret his words, not if they were going to turn her into fire, and he was quite partial to seeing her that way.

He shifted in his seat. "You wanted to thank me for running the tournament? An email would have sufficed," he said, noticing with a spark of amusement that she clenched her jaw.

"I'm sure it would have, but I wanted to do it in person."

He lifted an eyebrow again, refusing to acknowledge how pleased that statement made him.

"What you agreed to do was ultimately a big help to my family – in some ways, conducive to helping my brother"

Seto blinked. "You said it yourself, my running the tournament was beneficial to myself." Orchestrated entirely by you, he added mentally, admiringly. He certainly hadn't appreciated being the pawn, but the strategy was something he could marvel at, at least now, with the distance of time.

Ishizu let out a breath of laughter. "I know. I'm not saying that you did it to help me – how could you have, when you didn't even know. But – " she paused, her gaze shifting to the window behind him, the focus in her eyes blurring slightly, before she turned her gaze back on him – "where he was before, where _we _were before, and where we are now, it's a miraculous change. And I am aware of how little your part was, believe me," she went on quickly, anticipating his reaction with a crooked smile, "but I am grateful nonetheless."

Seto held her gaze, wondering whether he should say what he wanted to. He opened, and then shut his mouth. He didn't want to say the wrong thing, but at the same time he knew it had to be said, because it was, in fact, the right thing, whether she knew it or not.

"The only person you owe any thanks to is yourself. Not Yugi, not me – _certainly_ not me. You're the one responsible for where your brother is now. Only you." He cleared his throat. It had felt like a long speech.

A wondering glimmer had entered Ishizu's eyes, captivating his own, its power strengthened by the puzzled smile that touched her lips.

He straightened, licked his lips.

"I don't know about that," she murmured. "I . . . may not agree, but thank you.

Seto could only hold her gaze for a second, before he faltered, eyes sliding away, his neck flushing hot at his cowardice. The clock ticked out the seconds, loud and taunting, but his eyes didn't move back.

His stomach lurched at the sound of Ishizu clearing her throat.

"Thank you for your time. I should be heading back now."

He managed to look back at her just in time to receive the alarmingly full-blown smile that managed to make him feel short of breath, despite the fact that he was sitting down.

He sat there, mute, frozen and uncouth as she got up and left his office, with that inherent grace and strength, so inextricably intertwined, that he was beginning to realize was uniquely Ishizu. And as the door shut on her back, he also realized with increasing panic that he was desperate to know what else was uniquely Ishizu Ishtar. Everything else.

He gripped the arms of his chair tightly, stomach sinking with the knowledge of what he was about to do.

Thunder boomed behind him.

He forced himself to be still, succeeding for a few seconds, three, four, five, when the thunder growled again, and he was out of his seat and striding through the door.

The secretary was turned away from him, rifling through a drawer. A blessing, he didn't want her asking him where he was going. Especially, he thought, stabbing at the elevator button, as he didn't know the answer to that question himself.

He avoided his reflection in the elevator, watching the blinking light instead, and willing it to make its way through the descending numbers. She might have gone already, or worse, she might be there, and she would – but then the elevator opened and he didn't have to follow the trail of his fear, choosing instead to strike out blindly, his insides roiling against this impulsive move.

The odd looks in the foyer only propelled him, and he burst out into the rain-drenched air, inhaling like a drowned man. His eyes pinged between pedestrians, when suddenly he saw her, and his feet moved of their own volition, taking him down the stairs in staccato steps.

She was scurrying through the rain, her back to him, and his gut twisted, protesting that this should be his last image of her.

"Ishizu!" He almost regretted the call, hoped she hadn't heard so that he could go back, dry his hair, and sit down at his desk again, but she turned and he decided that regret would have to take a back seat.

She stood there, blinking rapidly as he closed the gap between them.

"Mr. Kaiba," she said, squinting against the misshapen beads of rain dripping into her eyes.

He wanted to say, with a carelessness that dripped with suavity, that they were probably on first name terms now considering he'd run after her in the rain. But he couldn't – his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, getting drier and drier as the rest of him became more drenched.

Ishizu frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I – I forgot to tell you something," he croaked.

"Oh?" The surprise was visible on her face, a tinge of suspicion underneath that would have made him laugh if he hadn't been so wound up with nerves.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

There was a hand on his arm, her hand. Her face was wrinkled with worry. "Are you all right? Mr. Kaiba?" Her eyes ran over his face, her frown deepening. "Seto?"

Maybe it was her hand on him, her fingertips so close to his elbow that he could feel it prickle in ticklish anticipation.

Or maybe it was his name in her mouth, spilling worry and care, that it humbled and inflated him.

Or maybe. Maybe it was the raindrop that sat above her mouth, and dribbled down, slipping in between her lips, and coyly daring him to follow.

Which he did.

It wasn't smooth, and it wasn't controlled. He felt his mouth crash against hers, felt electricity shoot down his spine before, he was certain, he blacked out.

But he couldn't have, as a moment later he was still upright, as was Ishizu, so alarmingly and wonderfully upright against him, Ishizu, who was kissing him back, and making him feel alarming and wonderful things.

When they pulled apart he felt light-headed, vision slightly blurred, not at all helped by the fact that rain kept dripping into his eyes. He felt off-kilter, vulnerable, and he told himself that that was the reason his arms were wrapped so tightly around Ishizu.

It was some comfort to feel that hers were wrapped equally tightly around him. He had expected her to look stunned, to push him way, but instead she only stared at him with that private, crooked smile.

"I thought Mokuba said you weren't a ladies' man?"

"Heh," he laughed, before the words made it through his rain and kiss addled brain. "Wait – what?"

Ishizu's laugh vibrated against his chest and torso, travelling down to the tips of his toes, bubbling around him, and he felt that dangerously loopy smile fight its way back onto his mouth, before becoming lost amidst more kisses.

Maybe he wasn't a ladies' man, but, he realized, breathing in the essence of this woman who faced him with such fiery elegance, who challenged him so boldly, that maybe, maybe he could be this lady's man.

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**Please let me know what you think. This is the one I'm most curious about, in terms of how it plays out for you readers. **


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